My Angel
by XxUrBadLuckCharmxX
Summary: Nasuada/Murtagh - Reincarnations of the love that should have been. My take on the granddaughter of the High Ruler of Alagaesia, the Storm-Breaker, and the grandson of the last Heirs of the Forsworn, Kingkiller. Love. Kills. Slowly.


Disclaimer: I do not own Eragon or any of the original characters.

Authors Note: So, this is about the reincarnation of Nasuada and Murtagh. They're my favorite pairing in the Inheritance Cycle, and i so wished they ended up together. Anyway, Alagaesia lives in times of both peace and unrest, and their High King has just died. Please - reviews make me happy!

*Begin.*

I can only watch as she walks forward to take the throne, striding forward slowly dressed in resplendent ropes of black and gold. No traditional fifty mile train, no young children forced into uncomfortable clothes to follow her, not one single rose petal to crush, only her. She always was one to break tradition. The gold choker with the ruby that belonged to her mother was gone, yet another sign that the pretty little girl had disappeared and the beautiful young woman had emerged. Head held high, delicate curve of her neck and tiny shoulders bared, that would now bear the weight of the entire kingdom - too much for one so young. And yet she isn't. Young, that is. Too many hardships have forced one her age to grow up so much quicker. She hadn't had the chance to act her own age, to live and laugh and be young. To be free.

Except for the stolen hours on the sunlit balcony.

Where she had danced with me, spinning and twirling to imaginary music. Where I had stolen kisses and laughs alike. She had shared with me a side of her no one else had seen, and i treasured it beyond measure. When we had sat on cushions, eating cherries and talking about everything we could think of. I was her safe haven - the one person she could trust with her secrets and worries and thoughts, and trust me she did. She was my angel - my inspiration for each day, and she was an inspiration. Proud and headstrong, with a cool intelligence and a calmness in extreme stress that often unnerved people. But around me she was carefree, making comments and sharing her opinion like she could nowhere else.

She was my proud angel, and she shone with a bright brilliance that lit up everyone around her, making everyone else grow even more radiant around her. It just how she was. But now... i stare at my angel, changed beyond almost all recognition. At first glance, it was her. But on a second look, it was someone else. Gone was the calm, white-bright girl that lit everyone around her. My angel, who had soared above the rest of us, now walked on the ground with broken wings. Wings as torn as her soul. Even from here i can tell thats not my angel who's still walking the carpeted path to a lifetime of stress and responsibility. It's a prison for her. And the brilliance? Now it's darkness. It emanates from her like a black sun, instead brightening, it darkens. Casting a pall on everyone around her. But nobody but me can see it.

Or maybe i can't.

Maybe she's not that upset - maybe it's my imagination and wounded pride making things up. Maybe it's because I miss her beyond all things unimaginable and my heart aches and burns for her and I wouldn't even be on this planet anymore if not for her. I owe my life to her. Thats how we met after all. Me, standing on the balcony edge, telling myself to jump, to get it over with and die, because this world didn't need and me and I no longer had a place in it. Just as I was willing myself to do it, she spoke up behind me.

"Why're you jumping off a ledge on the top of the castle wall?"

I almost fell off at the sound of her voice.

"I want to die. So I'm going to kill myself."

I told her honestly.

"Oh"

Pause.

"That's a pretty stupid thing to do."

I almost fell off the balcony again.

I swore, trying to regain my balance lost in the utter disbelief of her comment. I tipped forward and opened my mouth, about to yell, i wasn't ready, wait, no, i still had things to do, when i felt small hands grab my arms. And she pulled me back onto the balcony, as we tumbled into each other, sprawling on the floor.

She had saved me. Both literally and figuratively. And she would every day on.

"So, I take it your not ready to die?"

She was far too calm for having almost seen me jump to my death. Where had i seen her face before?

"Hey! I was going to! You just startled me!"

"Right. Because that makes sense. You would have jumped long before i came around if you were truly going to."

That girl will be the death of me yet, i thought.

How right i was.

Now she was killing me, as surely as if she had picked up a knife and twisted it through my heart. I almost wish she had. It would probably hurt less and then i wouldn't have to suffer through this. Stop being melodramatic, i told myself. She's just going to have a big gold piece of jewelry put on her head, and rule the entire land of Alagaesia, and she'll be a queen then, and find a suitable king to rule by her side, and they'll have heirs to the land and live happily ever after... I swear as i told myself this, i could feel the knife twisting farther and farther into my heart. Then i had the thought of some other guy, a tall, faceless stranger, holding her as they watched their kids run around in the back gardens, sitting on the lavender stone bench. My hands trembled at the thought of somebody else touching her. She was mine.

Since when do she become mine? I bitterly asked myself. She was never yours. She never could be.

I watched her turn and sit on the curved golden throne.

No.

I thought to myself.

Not yet.

This wasn't supposed to happen yet.

She was supposed to stay with me forever on the sun-drenched balcony.

This wasn't supposed to happen so soon.

I see the Chancellor approach, crown held in front of him. He's wearing a warm smile. He thinks of her as a doting daughter, after all. Why shouldn't he? He belongs to her world. She belongs to him. In a way, she'll always be his darling daughter figure.

I'll never be a part of that world. I know, that she belongs to me, and I to her. She is my one true love. But I was a fool to delude myself into thinking I could have a chance.

Because, for a while, i thought she actually loved me back.

Reality is like a slap to the face.

I turn away as the bitter taste rises in my mouth, and my feet move of their own accord.

She'll never belong to me in that way.

I was nothing but a friend. If that was what I was. Not even that - she never comes to the balcony anymore, too busy with the duties of taking of Alagaesia. She doesn't have time for folly anymore. She doesn't have time for me.

I realize I'm standing on the balcony. The path is so ingrained into my mind, my feet have carried me here without thinking.

I climb onto the edge of the balcony, looking out at the empty moors.

The exact same view, only a year ago.

Exactly to this day.

It's ironic, isn't it?

Too ironic, for my taste. Fate has a cruel way playing into my life, but I was always favored by misfortune. Like my father, and his father before me.

Murtagh Kingkiller - last of the heirs of the Forsworn, one of the most feared Dragon Riders, Rider of Thorn, and Galbatorix's pawn. My grandfather. It was rumored, that he and the Queen Nasuada, leader of all of Alagaesia and the Varden, was once an object of his affection. She had borne 3 heirs to the throne, all out of duty to her people, for it was well-known she did not love the King Garven the way she ought. It was wondered who she did love. But my father had told me, Murtagh had saved the great Lady Nasuada when she was captured by Galbatorix. And they had fallen in love. But she was a queen-to-be, leader of the rebellion and changer of tides. He was a Kingkiller, one of the last Dragon Riders, Galbatorix's vassal, and a criminal to boot. Their love was forbidden and wrong for many, many reasons.

The Queen Nasuada and the King Garven had three young children, all boys. They grew up, all three off to fight in wars, and two were killed in battle. The third came home to find his mother on the brink of death and his father long gone. He held her hand as she died, murmuring something only she could hear. With a heavy heart, he reigned over Alagaesia. He married a noblewoman for connections and later fell in love with her, having a small girl. The little girl with nut-brown skin, deep brown eyes, and shining mane of black-brown hair. She of the storm-breakers, they called her, because she was as ever changing as the storm. Her mother died when she was 16 due to a fatal illness, and her father had lived a long, full life up until about two weeks ago. Now she sat on a throne, awaiting the official announcement to place the crown on her head and rule until she died.

My father told me Murtagh had taken off, leaving behind the Eldunari he had saved and a crying Nasuada. He said goodbye to his half-brother, Eragon, and left into the wilderness. His story is here filled with holes, but i know for fact that somewhere along his journey he had met a beautiful young woman. My grandmother. And she had a child, my father, but died giving birth. Murtagh took care of my father until he was old enough to journey on his own, and then my father went out on his own more and more, eventually leaving home. He met a girl his age, fighting with 3 boys - and more than holding her own. Friendship came, and then love, and then me. But like my grandmother, my mother died young. I was 5, and heartbroken. A traveling man took me in, one who was actually rich. He told everyone i was his son, and it came to be that even people that knew we weren't related had long forgotten. I was as pampered as a prince, and yet beaten almost every day. I have a scar, on my back, from when he drew his dagger down it in a drunk frenzy of hate.

Like i said, misfortune

But then she came. And everything changed.

How everything i ever wanted changed in that instant - everything that made me, me, ceased. I was no longer me, I was somebody else, something else. Something more.

I was hers.

Of course, everyone is hers. Tucked into her pocket, not only from the authority of who she would be, but the very charismatic nature of her. She was beautiful and smart and talented and had a kind word for everyone. She was the nicest person anyone could possibly know.

She belonged to her father, the High King of Alagaesia, and also the riders, as was her duty. She belonged to the elegant elves and the stately dwarves and proud Urgals, along with the mightily, wild race of dragons, ever-growing. The riders were her favorite - mother was one, after all. She belonged to the court, the subtle politics that became more and more like the elves every day, only ours were filled with betrayal and shifts of power.

But right from the start, I was hers. My life was in her hands from the very moment she met me. She chose to pull me back from the ledge, and then she cared for me.

I will never again kiss her, never again touch her, never again see that beautiful smile. She will belong to someone else now.

She is mine, though. In my head, she will always be mine.

My angel. My companion. My princess. My friend. My savior.

She saves me over and over, every day.

My love.

*Finite*

Kisses and Cupcakes To Everyone Who Reviews!


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